See Me Through
by MyNameIsDoodle
Summary: What if the hobbits were never seperated? What if Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin travelled alone to Mount Doom? What perils would they face? Centered around the four hobbits. Character death later on.
1. Chapter 1: Breaking of the Fellowship

_**The story opens with the lines of the last chapter of "The Fellowship of the Ring", the chapter called 'The Breaking of the Fellowship'. The rest is written by me but the characters and story belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. **_

"How long is it since you saw Frodo last, Boromir?" asked Aragorn.

"Half an hour, maybe," he answered. "Or it might be an hour. I have wandered for some time since. I do not know! I do not know!" he put his head in his hand, and sat as if bowed with grief.

"An hour since he vanished!" shouted Sam. "We must try and find him at once. Come on!"

The three remaining hobbits, Legolas and Gimli started, rising to their feet and set to sprint off into the thicket of trees when a loud commanding voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Halt! We mustn't lose our heads!"

They were stunned to find the source was their own leader Aragorn, son of Arathorn, whom suddenly appeared kingly and royal, the name Strider forgotten. Despite his desperate urge to find his master, Sam spun around, his protest faltering on his tongue.

"Now, Legolas, Gimli you will come with me," Aragorn said, seeming a little taken aback himself about how he'd just spoken. "Merry, Pippin, Samwise, you shall remain here. Boromir will guard you if any danger should come your way."

Sam snapped out of his awestruck trance and found his tongue. "No! I will not sit idly here while Mr. Frodo is out there in danger!"

"You must stay here," Aragorn repeated firmly. "Frodo may return and if he tries to travel alone to Mordor, he has you four there to stop him. Also, your being here gives us one less thing to worry over. Boromir, if you see any sign of Frodo, blow your horn and we shall return as swiftly as our legs can carry us."

Sam felt sorely defeated, seeing sense and reason in their leader's words but despising them for being correct. To show his displeasure, he threw himself onto the floor, crossing his arms across his chest like a sulking child. Merry and Pippin cast each other uncertain glances, both itching to bolt into the trees despite what Aragorn had said but they knew their short hobbit legs were no match for the long, agile ones of their taller companions. Reluctantly, they too took a seat upon the ground.

Satisfied, Aragorn cast Boromir one last glance. He felt uncertain about Boromir's claim, knowing deep in his heart that the man of Gondor may have been a reason for why Frodo had acted so recklessly but he did not press the matter now and turned on his heel and galloped to the wood, followed hotly by the elf and dwarf.

Boromir felt wary, wringing his hands over and over. He knew Aragorn suspected him and he felt a great urge to flee, to return to Minas Tirith, away from Aragorn's soul-searching stare. He kept his hand upon the hilt of his blade, eyes trained upon the trees, ignoring the hobbits as he felt their eyes upon him.

'They know...' he thought miserably. 'They know what happened between Frodo and I. They scorn me in their minds...such tiny, dumb minds. Whatever will Frodo say when we find him? _If _we find him, rather. Will he tell them of my weakness?'

They sat there in silence for a while, the only sound breaking it being that of Boromir's anxious footsteps pacing back and forth, his blade hissing as he went to draw it from its sheath only to find no enemy had decided to emerge.

It was Pippin whom had noticed one of the boats moving. At first he assumed it was a trick of the mind; that all the commotion that had occurred had obscured his sight, playing queer tricks upon his eyes. Only when the boat began to wade out into the water, did he spring to his feet, knocking his unsuspected fellow hobbits over onto their backs.

"Ho, steady on, Pip!" Merry exclaimed, straightening up.

Pippin wasn't about to steady. He bounced up and down, pointing frantically at the water, his mouth moving but only stutters leaving his lips, unable to unknot the rope that had been constricted around his throat. Sam and Merry considered briefly that the youngest hobbit had been stricken mad, but they were proven wrong when the young Took found his voice.

"THE BOAT!" he yelped.

Sam and Merry looked, eyes widening as they realised Pippin was telling the truth. The boat was leaving the shore.

"Boromir!" Sam shouted for the man.

Boromir turned, catching on immediately and tore down towards the waters.

"Maybe one of the ropes weren't tied properly!" Merry suggested as he, Pippin and Sam followed.

"Impossible," Boromir replied through gritted teeth. "Elven ropes don't loosen easily."

Unless their eyes were cheated by some spell, the hobbits saw the boat pick up speed as if someone was frantically paddling, water being disturbed on the right and left side of the boat. Boromir was too quick and reached out, fingers gripping onto the stern and pulling it back.

"No!" a voice cried.

Sam's heart skipped a momentary beat and he found a smile cross across his lips. It was Frodo. His master was safe. Stopped in his tracks from doing something self-sacrificing and unreasonable. He, Merry and Pippin halted at the water's edge, watching the boat being towed in by the man.

Frodo paddled feverishly, struggling with all his might to escape from Boromir's vice-like grip but he was forced to shore. His heart sank. Everything now was pointless; he had been caught. No way could he escape now. Sooner or later, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas would return and they would want to hear what had happened, would still wish to accompany him on his dangerous quest. His beloveds, Merry, Pippin, especially Samwise would be put in harm's way once again, and he'd have to rely on the strength of strangers to prevent their untimely deaths. He found himself close to tears, tempted to throw himself into the water and swim away if he must.

Frodo made one last desperate attempt to escape, leaping from the boat and starting towards the trees but he was too busy checking over his shoulder to see if Boromir had noticed his absence from the boat, and he walked straight into an unsuspecting Pippin. Pippin fell with an "oof", and Frodo's location was pin pointed.

"Take the ring off, Frodo, son of Drogo," Boromir said softly, walking towards them. "We wish to speak, calmly and rationally."

Frodo, defeated, obeyed and pulled the ring from his finger. As if a cloak that had blocked him from sight had been torn from him, he came into view. Sam stepped forward and heaved his master to his feet, brushing him down as Pippin pouted; helping himself to his feet, looking to Merry to brush him down but his cousin was staring intently at Frodo.

"You mustn't scare me like that, Mr. Frodo," Sam gushed, bubbling with relief that his master was safe and sound once more. "We could have lost you. I'm so glad we found you..."

"That makes one of us, dearest Sam," Frodo said, eyes locked upon those of Boromir. "For I wished to leave unspotted and to complete this hopeless errand alone."

"Alone? Whatever for?" Merry asked, perplexed. "You've seen what's out there and, to be honest, I'm glad to have such strong, courageous men to aid us otherwise we'd have been killed before even setting foot out of the Shire. Why ever would you wish to continue this alone?"

"The ring is treacherous," Frodo answered, not shifting his eyes once. "And it is my own burden. I am grieved that I have brought you all into this...and the affects it has had upon you all."

Boromir's blood ran cold. He was pleased that none of the other hobbits had caught on to what this was hinting at; Frodo's glare was quite enough. He suddenly remembered his promise to Aragorn and raised his horn to his lips, blowing into it.

After he'd blown a few times, he lowered it and turned to the hobbits. "There, Aragorn and the others should be here at any moment. Then we'll discuss this..."

It was never known what young Boromir had to say; Frodo often mused later on in life that he'd have used hedging terms such as 'situation' or 'affair', but of course he would never know. An object, slender and swift, whistled past Sam's ear, causing him to instinctively duck; and it struck Boromir, son of Denethor, in the chest. It took the hobbits a moment to understand what had just happened, but when they did finally understand it struck them harder than the very black arrow that protruded from Boromir's chest. Merry stood staring with his mouth agape. Pippin staggered back in shock into his older cousin. Sam's hand flew to his mouth, stifling a cry. Frodo stared, his blue eyes bulging, still locked with those of the man. Boromir's eyes were filled with various emotions; mainly guilt, surprise, horror, grief...and it haunted all four of them till the end of their days.

A great roar tore through the air and Frodo withdrew Sting, praying that their enemies were at bay and that it was only a stray arrow that had pierced their companion. To his dismay, the blade glowed blue.

"Orcs," Sam breathed, his hands visibly shaking as he went to draw his own small sword.

The hobbits were frozen with fear, the trumpets of the enemy bellowing in the trees. Boromir stood there, breathing heavily, staring in amazement as the four, child-sized halfings created a protective circle around him, weapons drawn and ready to attack. The pain was great in his chest but their bravery seemed to numb it momentarily. He drew himself up straight and moved forward to stand before them.

"You four get on the boat," he said firmly, spotting the first few orcs and uruk-hai disturbing the shadows in the trees. "Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli would've heard by horn...they will be here shortly but I need you to escape."

Frodo gazed in wonder at the back of the man of Gondor, his heart swelling with newfound admiration, and a great reluctance to leave the courageous warrior to fight alone.

"We shall not abandon you," he said, going to stand beside the man only to have Boromir's hand reach back to stop him, touching his chest.

"You must and shall," Boromir insisted, feeling the frantic heartbeat of the hobbit. "Sam, Merry, Pippin, I leave the ring bearer in your care. Protect him with your life, and one another. I bid you good tidings as you head towards Mount Doom...I pray that your journey shall be without grief and misfortune. Now hasten and leave, I will hold them off for as long as my body allows."

The four hobbits hesitated, moved by these words although also terrified of the prospect of being alone in the world against so many powerful enemies that could kill them with a swipe of its claw. They wanted to stay alongside Boromir, stand at his side until the very end, to remain with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. But they all knew it could not be so. The uruk-hai and orcs were swarming in like bees to sweet nectar, bellowing out howls and roars that brought terror to the hearts of the halflings. They knew they must leave...and fast.

"Your nerve shall never be forgotten, Boromir son of Denethor, man of Gondor," Frodo said softly as the others ran back to the boat, climbing aboard and grabbing packs. "Whatever wrongs you have done, whatever ways your heart was turned due to the power of the Ring, I forgive all and your heart is now pure and untainted. You will be in my thoughts, for always."

"And you in mine," Boromir returned, casting a swift smile over his shoulder at the ring bearer. "Now make haste. Destroy the evil!"

Boromir charged towards the cluster of orcs and uruk-hai, his hair flying out behind him, cloak billowing in the wind, sword rose. Frodo couldn't move for a moment and Sam had to grasp his shoulder, roughly turning him around and pulling him into the boat. Merry and Pippin rowed as hard and fast as they could, their eyes forever trained on the brave warrior whom continued to swing his blade, slaying many orcs and uruk-hai. They all gasped sharply as yet more arrows pierced his chest, back and shoulder. Pippin turned away and buried his head in Merry's shoulder, tears cascading down his muddy cheeks. Sam turned away, focusing on the water instead, his eyes squeezing tighter shut every time Boromir gave a cry. Frodo just stared...always staring...at the peril and destruction he left behind him...

_**Let me know what you think. More chapters will be uploaded soon. The story will focus mainly on the hobbits and their journey. Review please. **_


	2. Chapter 2: Farwell Boromir

_**The part that begins '**_A mile maybe..._**' to '**_Boromir did not..._**' are actually words from the book "The Two Towers" although slightly altered to match the story. I decided to put parts of the book with my own story, to join them together so to keep some of the story. Everything else, however, is written by me. Enjoy and review.**_

A horn's song burst in the otherwise silent air.

At first, it was only Legolas' elvish ears that had picked up the sound but as he turned to alert Aragorn and Gimli, the horn blew once more, louder this time, and both of them heard it themselves. A flash sparked in Aragorn's eyes and the sharp, tightness of his worn face suddenly sagged with relief.

"A horn of Gondor," Legolas said softly.

The three retraced their steps down to the shore, their steps lightened with hope, Aragorn sprinting off at the front, Legolas springing shortly after him and Gimli lagging at the very back. The elf eventually decided to slow to wait for their smaller companion but Aragorn continued to race on ahead, tugged as if by an invisible lead to finally know the truth of what had happened between Boromir and Frodo.

A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he were resting. But Aragorn saw he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many orcs lay slain, piled all around him and at his feet.

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo," he said. "I am sorry. I have paid." His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. "They have gone: the halflings." He paused and closed his eyes wearily. After a moment he spoke again.

"Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

"No!" said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. "You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace. Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

Boromir smiled.

"Which way did they go? Were they taken? Was Frodo there?" said Aragorn.

But Boromir did not speak again.

Aragorn went to speak, praying that Boromir hadn't heard his question but knew it was not so. Boromir, son of Denethor, son of Gondor, was lost. He bowed his head in grief, still clasping the man's hands tightly in his own. So little information had he acquired from the fallen man, so little information did he have on the hobbits' whereabouts. He was left with nothing.

Wasn't long until Legolas and Gimli had caught up, both stopping short of the terrible scene that lay before them. They needn't ask for they knew; Boromir had fallen. Legolas hung his head, whispering something tenderly in elvish and Gimli closed his eyes, as if trying to get a grip on himself, heaving in a great breath that seemed to steal all of the air around them.

Aragorn rose, his backs to them as he spoke. "They have gone, he said. The halflings. He did not specify whom and whether they had been taken."

"It is of no doubt that the hobbits have been captured!" Gimli said hoarsely, his eyes re-opening and they were swimming with tears. "Brave Boromir did not fall for no reason; he was protecting them with his life, as we made him swear. He truly was a man of his word and I am grieved to have doubted him. If only we had made it here in time to aid him, to say so to his face."

Aragorn didn't tell them the truth, didn't tell them of Boromir's falter to the power of the Ring. He did not wish to taint the man's memory. He remained silent and turned to face them.

"If Gimli is correct, we are in a very grave position," he said eventually. "The Bearer is in the hands of the enemy...we must hasten to rescue him and the others."

"But first, let us tend to the dead," Legolas opened his eyes, staring directly at their leader, sorrow contorting his fair features. "I do not think I could live with myself if we left such a noble man lying amongst such foul creatures."

"Me neither," Aragorn agreed. "But as I said, we must be quick. The fate of all Middle-Earth is being held as cargo amongst a band of villainous orcs."

The hobbits' hearts were heavy as they abandoned their boat and started to walk, having to support one another; they were numb limbed with mourning. Eventually, feeling safe, they collapsed upon the ground, breaking into heart wrenching sobs.

Beloved Boromir had run into the trees, in hope the orcs and uruk-hai would follow. He stormed through them, killing many but receiving many arrows in his torso, and one in his upper thigh that caused him bother when running. Not once had he look over his shoulder, although the hobbits couldn't tear their eyes from his retreating back. Although none of them had seen him fall, they all knew of the fate that had been bestowed upon their companion.

"I do not wish to rush you," Frodo said, unable to cry despite feeling like his heart was being brutally shredded. "But we must move on. The enemy will soon cross the water and will be upon us...then Boromir's sacrifice would have been for nothing."

"I fear I cannot walk," Pippin whimpered, rubbing his raw pink eyes upon his sleeve. "I feel like my very bones have been replaced with a heavy weight."

"Me also," Merry said, looking to Frodo with tired eyes. "Please, let us sit a while...until we've gathered our senses."

Frodo opened his mouth to argue when Sam cut him off. "Give us a moment, for pity's sake, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo flinched. It sounded so familiar to that of Boromir after they had all wept for their loss of Gandalf after escaping the Mines of Moria. He felt regret seep through his veins and, unable to move his features, nodded and turned his back to them. Finally, the tears trickled down his cheeks.

Sam was riddled with remorse for how he had spoken to his master; flushed, he rose, stepping tentatively over to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," he apologised. "I am weary...we all are. Let us rest just for a moment. Then we'll leave as fast as we can."

"You are right, Sam," Frodo murmured, barely audible. "Let us rest a while. Until just now, I didn't feel the weight. Now I do and I feel it will be hard to even lift my feet. First we lose Gandalf...and now Boromir. What has become of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli? What if they are lost also? Oh, Sam..."

He buried his face in his small hands, the tears leaving scorching trails behind them. Sam gaped at him for a second but then gathered himself, crouching down next to his master and wrapping an arm around his heaving shoulders. As soon as they touched, Frodo turned around and flung himself into his gardener's arms, crying full-heartedly into his chest. Alarmed, Sam struggled to soothe his master's unnerving sobs that he was certain all of Middle-Earth would hear. He considered warning Frodo of this, but decided against it.

'Let him cry,' he thought, rocking his master. 'I can't ever recall him ever shedding a tear...in my presence any way. He has been received a blow mightier than any blade in Middle-Earth can deliver...'

It had been many years since Frodo had cried so, and it felt almost like a release; a release of negative energy that had brewed inside of him for so long. It was like a cloud, trying with all its might to hold all of its rain but eventually it burst. Eventually, the storm passed and he felt much lighter, save the heavy burden around his neck but still, he felt less of a weight and felt much better for it.

"Thank you, Sam," he mumbled, withdrawing from the awkward embrace and rose to his feet, brushing himself down before turning to his companions. He gazed upon each one of them lovingly; he felt a new threat looming, the threat of not cherishing them enough before they were torn away from him. Frodo loved each and every one of them, and vowed to ensure they knew how precious they were to him, in case anything sudden separated them.

"Bilbo always said to me," he said slowly. "You know who your true friends are as you head off to war. I intended to head to war alone, but now as I gaze upon each of your faces I know I would have it no other way. I'm glad you are with me, even though I fear greatly for you all, more than myself. Thank you for staying by my side. Now, if you have cried to your heart's content, we shall move on."

The hobbits travelled for many hours, the pads of their feet rather sore and starting to blister by the time they decided to make camp for the night, a black curtain been drawn and shunning out the sun, banishing it to some dark realm, which it could not return from until the morning came. They were all cried out; their voices were hoarse and they were all very weary so not much conversation passed between them although they all had thousands of things to say to one another.

Sam broke off pieces of _lembas _bread and shared it out between them, all eating in silence, apart from Pippin whom was staring at his share in disdain.

"What's the matter, Pip?" Merry asked, noticing his young cousin had not yet started to eat.

"I wish we could've rescued more packs," Pippin admitted, nibbling dismally on his piece. "I don't know how I'll survive on such a tight ration."

"Then you go back and get some more," Sam said in an injured voice. "I tried to pick up as much as I could. If you hadn't noticed, we were kind of in a hurry."

Pippin stuck out his tongue childishly. "I understand," he grumbled. "I just wish my stomach would too and leave me be. It keeps growling at me like it's somehow my fault."

Frodo felt his lips spreading into a wide smile, watching the banter pass between his companions. Merry had given Pippin the last shred of his _lembas_, earning a joyous squeal from the younger hobbit and then changed his mind, snatching it back and holding it high above his head so Pippin was clambering over him, stretching his arms as long as he could to reach it.

Time passed swiftly and soon, Frodo could no longer decipher land from sky, just blackness and the dim flicker of the dying fire. The air was cool and the wind insisted on blowing out the last embers, causing Sam to curse under his breath as he pulled his cloak over him, clutching it for further warmth. Merry and Pippin had already fallen to sleep, Pippin snoring softly. Frodo wished he could sleep like they could; he didn't doubt for a second he was just as tired as they were, maybe even more so. But his mind was plagued with many thoughts, concerns and memories. Every time he attempted sleep, an image of Boromir flashed in his mind, causing his joints to jolt and heart to lurch, snapping his eyes wide open and even more awake than before.

"You really should sleep, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered so not to wake Merry and Pippin. "I'll keep watch. And I won't go nodding off, if you follow me. I promise, I'll keep both eyes peeled. No moth shall fly past me without your knowing."

Frodo smiled warmly. "Despite how comforting that is, Sam, my mind will not settle."

"I know what you mean," Sam returned the smile. "But you should really try. We have to get up bright and early tomorrow, and I'd hate for you to be weary. I'll wake Merry to take second watch in two hours time."

"I'll keep watch with you for a while then, Sam, if you'll have my company."

"I'm grateful for your company, Mr. Frodo, don't get me wrong. But you deserve rest more than any of us. Please, just rest a little. Even if your mind can't wander just relax yourself and your tired body. Would you mind so if I offered a tip on how to get to sleep?"

Frodo raised his eyebrows. "You surely aren't going to suggest that I count sheep."

"No, course not," Sam said sheepishly. "Sing a song in your head...or aloud if it helps."

"A song..." Frodo echoed quietly. "Only one song sits in my head...do you remember Bilbo's song?"

"You may need to be a bit more specific, Mr. Frodo. Mr. Bilbo wrote many a songs."

"It's a song he sang to me...before we left Rivendell," Frodo said thoughtfully. "It goes like this..."

He inhaled deeply and breathed out the following words:

"I sit beside the fire and think  
of all that I have seen,  
of meadow-flowers and butterflies  
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer  
in autumns that there were,  
with morning mist and silver sun  
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think  
of how the world will be  
when winter comes without a spring  
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things  
that I have never seen:  
in every wood in every spring  
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think  
of people long ago,  
and people who will see a world  
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think  
of times there were before;  
I listen for returning feet  
and voices at the door".

Sam listened intently and when the song had ended, he grinned broadly. "Keep singing that in your head, Mr. Frodo. May just do the trick. Remind you of easier, brighter times. Now, I must shake that song from my head otherwise I may never stay awake!"

Frodo nodded, bade his gardener good night and rolled onto his side, sealing his eyes shut like he was slamming a door on all bad, haunting thoughts. And as soon as his lids pulled over his eyes, he fell deep into sleep, the words of Bilbo floating around in his head like petals in an idle breeze.

"Merry?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think we made a mistake? Leaving the Shire?"

Merry struggled to conceal his agitation of being awoken, just starting to fall into that comfortable state before sleep overcame him when the voice of Pippin had smashed through it like a hammer through glass, shattering it completely and leaving him extremely annoyed. His muscles screamed in protest as his movement but he ignored it, rolling on his side to look at the young, innocent face of his younger cousin.

"What?" he said, his speech slurred and thick with sleep.

"Do you think we made a mistake leaving the Shire?" Pippin repeated.

"I heard you first time, Pip..."

"Then why did you ask me to repeat myself..."

"I didn't! Look, I was just about to fall to sleep and you should be doing the same. Why are you asking foolish questions like this for?"

Pippin flushed. "I'm not certain. I just...I just feel like we made a mistake. What use are we here? Well, me really. You can keep up with Frodo and Sam...I just lag behind. All I do is take away their share of food and slow them down."

Merry was fully awake now, sleep completely forgotten. "Pippin, don't craft yourself to seem such a burden, okay? Because you are not. You are young and are not used to long walks like we are. In fact, all of us are out of our league right now...I've never walked so long and far in my life but I'm taking it in my stride, as should you. In a few days, you'll be used to the long distances and we shall be the ones pleading with you to slow down."

He wasn't certain he believed these words. If anything, Pippin had always been the slowest walker, and sprinter. Whenever they raced one another in the Shire, Pippin always had a head start, using all his speed and strength at the beginning so by the time it came to the last bound, he had no energy left and was often left in the dust of his competition, falling face down onto the grass with exhaustion. However, Merry wasn't going to bring this up now. He just smiled at his cousin and gave him a firm poke in the nose. Pippin yelped quietly, going slightly cross-eyed as he looked at Merry's finger.

"Now, if you wake me up again I'll never share my food with you again," Merry warned.

"You're a cruel fiend, Meriadoc Brandybuck!" Pippin whined. "Okay, I shall not bother you again. Even if I were to be snatched in the night."

Merry's eyes narrowed. "Do not joke about such things, Peregrin Took," he said, returning the formal address. "If you ever do get snatched, let me know immediately. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep before it's my turn to watch."

He closed his eyes and was snuggling into the warmth of his cloak when he felt a heavy hand upon his shoulder.

"Mr. Merry? Sorry to wake you but it is your turn to watch now," Sam's voice was ginger and genuinely apologetic.

Merry growled and sat upright, turning to the youngest hobbit, pinched his pointed ear sharply, and pulled Pippin up onto his feet, dragging him away to Sam's spot.

"Since you woke me up, you can keep watch with me," Merry griped, sitting down cross-legged with his arms crossed at his chest, staring out into the night with Pippin sitting beside him, rubbing his ear with a wounded expression on his face.

_**Let me know what you think. Please review. Next chapter will be up soon and it will be based around their journey through Emyn Muil. What peril lies before our four beloved hobbits? Find out in the next chapters. Thank you for reading. **_

_***The poem is called "Bilbo's Song" and is from "The Fellowship of the Ring", chapter three of part two, the chapter called 'The Ring Goes South'. **_


	3. Chapter 3: Emyn Muil

"I would love some ale right about now..."

"Oh, don't torture yourself so!"

"No, scratch that. Two pints of ale...no three. Or maybe four. And fresh strawberries covered with cream..."

"Pippin, seriously seal your lips," Merry laughed, half amused, half agitated because his own weary stomach was craving the same things also and speaking about them aloud seemed to push his hunger to its peak.

"I can't help it, Merry," the youngest hobbit whined, lagging on behind the others. "I'm just so hungry."

"We can't stop to eat now," Sam said firmly. "Besides, you've already had breakfast...and don't mention second breakfast!" he swiftly added as he heard Pippin inhale, ready to speak. The young Took closed his mouth, glowering at the gardener.

The sky was still gloomy, a shadow that draped the rest of the world in a dim light. The four hobbits had tried to get a head start, still concerned that the uruk-hai would still be hot on their heels, and had been walking for over three hours now, even though the sun had not yet fully risen in the sky. They struggled to pick their way across the terrain, for it was rough and sloped awkwardly. Already that morning, Sam had slipped and fallen on his back, Merry had a nasty gash on the side of his foot from a jagged edge of stone and Pippin had fell straight onto his face, receiving a nasty graze on his chin. Frodo was the only one who had not yet had any accidents, and Merry and Pippin were distracting themselves by betting how much longer he could remain on his feet.

"We'll walk one more hour," Frodo rasped, his lungs feeling swollen in his chest as he panted, the air seeming sharp, stinging like salt against his inflamed organs. "No more, no less."

"Fair enough," Merry muttered to his young cousin. "Just long enough to see if I shall win the bet."

"No way, Merry," Pippin grinned, wiping away a humid layer of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Frodo has the balance of a...erm...tell me, Sam, what is well balanced?"

"A hobbit diet," Sam replied shortly, blatant to the conversation between the two younger hobbits.

Pippin nodded at Merry. "Frodo has the balance of a hobbit diet," he finished. "I'll wager he won't fall once today."

"Okay, Pip. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You won't cry when you have to hand me your rations tonight."

* * *

The final hour of their morning's walk was unbearable for the four halflings of the Shire. Whilst travelling with the Fellowship, they had no real sense of fear. Of course they were wary of things that lurked in the shadows and of course they were always sure to be alert and prepared in case a fight took place but they always had the protection of much stronger companions. Legolas, the elf, with his swift bow. Gimli, the dwarf, with his heavy, mighty axe. Boromir, the man of Gondor, with his trusted shield that took the brunt of the enemy's attacks. Aragorn, heir of Isildur, with his noble blade. And Gandalf with his silent but powerful presence and wise. There, in their company, the four hobbits had felt safe, protected. But now they felt as if a veil had been torn off of them and they were now bare and naked to the enemy. At any given moment they would have to draw their blades and fight; none of them were truly skilled in using a sword...

When the final hour had passed, they finally sank down to the ground, their muscles pulsing under their skin, hearts sprinting without rest in their chests. Frodo's weariness was worse than any of the others, the burden around his neck growing increasingly heavier as if someone was hanging from the chain that bound the ring, dragging him down into a deep abyss. He gratefully accepted some water from Sam, draining it quickly but carefully, being considerate to the fact that they had to try to save as much as they could.

They were finally upon Emyn Muil, and the terrain was tough upon their hobbit feet that was raised upon much softer, tender ground that felt like walking on butter compared to the cold, tough stone. Their shins and toes were grazed and blackened with dirt; hands grimy and in much need of a cool wash. Sam kept one eye upon his master and the other on Pippin whom seemed too generous with the amount of _lembas _he was giving himself.

"Careful, Mr. Pippin," Sam warned firmly, watching as the youngest hobbit pressed his index finger and thumb against the piece, ready to tear off a rather large share. "Take a little less, there's a good fellow. Shan't hurt to have just a tiny bit less than that."

Pippin looked stung as he gazed at his piece. "But, Sam that will barely soothe my hunger! It won't even quiet it for another hour. Wouldn't even satisfy one of the geese back at the Shire."

Sam cocked his eyebrows up, in a mute firm manner that told Pippin that this wasn't a request; that he had to be satisfied with what was allowed. Pippin was reluctant but agreed; tearing off a much smaller share than Sam had suggested and shoved it into his mouth, handing the _lembas _to Merry. Smiling, Sam took a small bite of his own, glancing around at their surroundings.

"I wonder how long it shall take before we can actually see Mordor," he wondered aloud. "Or if we're even going in the right direction."

"Don't speak so darkly, Sam, it doesn't suit you," Merry said.

"I know...but I can't help it!" Sam looked truly uneasy now, as if he had been locking all of these worries in his head for a very long time, itching to get it all off of his chest. "What if...what if we're going the wrong way? What if we're not in the right place? What if we're found? Oh my...what if we're taken to...to..." his voice faltered and the others knew precisely whom he was talking about. Sauron himself. Frodo grasped the ring tightly in his hand.

"Now, stop it Samwise!" Merry raised his voice, noticing Pippin starting to tremble violently beside him. "That is enough negative thinking for one day. In fact, until this..._thing _is done, there will be no more negative thoughts. Understood? Now, we know what we came here to do and we knew what kind of peril would face us. But we all came here, the reason we are all here now, is because there is no one else. And we swore to see Frodo through this...see each other through this. I don't know about you but I don't intend to sit here fretting about the road ahead. If we do that, we won't get anywhere. Now, if you're finished, let's have one more draught of water and get going."

Sam blushed alarmingly red; a mixture of shame and embarrassment crossing over his round features. Merry felt all eyes upon him, even Frodo who had turned to listen to what the Brandybuck had to say, but not once did he meet their gazes. He continued to eat at his _lembas _bread and then held his last shred out to Pippin.

"We all know you'd be kicking yourself later over giving yourself such a tiny ration," Merry said softly.

Pippin gave a weak half smile and accepted the piece without saying a word, eating it slowly so to ease his hunger a little more. Then, brushing off his hands, Merry rose to his feet, collecting his pack and walked over to Sam, who was still staring into space, moisture shimmering in his eyes. Merry held out his hand to the gardener, grasping his attention. Sam looked up to meet the warm eyes of his companion. No words had to be shared. He took Merry's hand, rising to his feet, and smiled gratefully at him.

"Come on then, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, his voice warm and encouraging as ever before, even more so. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Their first spat forgotten, the four of them started moving again. It was another few hours before they decided to admit they were hopelessly lost. Even Merry looked concerned, despite what he had said earlier that day.

"Let's face it...we're lost," Frodo said, the first he'd spoken that day and his voice was cracked and hoarse.

"Perhaps your right, Frodo," Merry said thoughtfully. "But more often than not, the lost find a way out, even if they have to retrace their steps a thousand times over."

"But we don't have the time to retrace our steps a thousand times over," Frodo groaned, running a hand over his sore, tired eyes.

The four of them started when the sound of disturbed stones filled the still air. They all spun around at the same time, seeing a fine dust rising and a few small rocks tumbling down a slope. Pippin inhaled deeply, grimacing at the stench that had replaced the clean air he was so used to and fond of.

"That...smell..." he groaned, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, breathing in deeply the familiar scent of home that felt like a comforting embrace.

"Oh dear, Pippin, I truly regret giving you the last of my _lembas_," Merry teased, pinching his nose.

"That revolting stink is not me, Merry!" Pippin stole a glare at his cousin.

"No...for once, I don't think it is Mr. Pippin," Sam murmured, also receiving a cold look from Pippin. "It's been following us around for days now. I just thought it was the smell of the place but now...I'm starting to believe that is not so."

"I don't think it's the place," Frodo agreed gently. "I think I know who it is..."

"Did you just say _who_, Mr. Frodo?" Sam said, startled.

"Yes," Frodo's voice was getting quieter by the moment, the others having to strain to understand what he was saying. "It is of great treachery but it means us no harm...for now. Let us keep walking and ponder over this when we settle for the night. Then I fear that is when this creature will show itself."

Sam, Merry and Pippin all exchanged anxious glances at one another, their eyes each reflecting the other's confusion and worry over Frodo's sanity as well as the words. Frodo started to walk once more, turning his back upon the slope in question, which acted as a veil for whatever it was that Frodo was referring. The other three continued to stare at it, even after Frodo had started to pick up speed. Sam was the first to turn to follow; Merry had to grasp Pippin's shoulder to get his attention, pulling him gently to turn him around to walk away.

Pippin felt a fear rouse in him that he hadn't felt for a while, a fear that had seemed to dim and was laid to rest for a while, and now it gripped him harder than ever. Even as he turned his back, he felt eyes upon him although he didn't dare turn back, terrified to imagine what kind of eyes would return his gaze. Instead, he trotted at Merry's side, refusing to be left at the back in case whatever creature was hiding there behind them decided to pounce.

"I still reckon you had some involvement in that smell, Pip," Merry whispered, in an attempt to ease his cousin's blatant nerves. Pippin smiled weakly and made haste.

* * *

_**Please review and let me know what you think. More action will be in the later chapters, I promise! They just have to get through the Emyn Muil first. I want to create a lighter air at first and then it becomes much more serious. Review, favourite and alert if you enjoyed ~ Doodle.**_

_**Throughout writing this I listened to this song on a loop. It's called 'Crawl' or 'Carry Me Through' by a band called Superchick. It inspired the title for the story. A video with the song along with a LOTR music video. Enjoy. **_

_**.com/watch?v=g5davV9IAGQ**_


	4. Chapter 4: The Elven Rope

_**Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Keep them coming. **_

The four hobbits' road was made much more difficult and dangerous as they came to a cliff. At first, they'd hoped it was just a steep slope but, as they drew closer, realised it was not so. No hobbits are at all fond of great heights, and this was no exception. Frodo plucked up the courage to kneel at the edge, peering down. As soon as he moved, Sam followed and crouched beside his master, looking with one eye at the steep drop, a cold sweat breaking out on his hands, back, neck and forehead.

"About...eighteen fathoms, I think," Frodo said softly. "All the same, I think we should try it. This is the easier road."

"You can barely call this a road, Mr. Frodo, begging your pardon," Sam snorted, feeling his knees buckle wildly as he rose to his feet. He began to feel nausea creep over him and he had to walk back over to Merry and Pippin order to prevent fainting and toppling over the edge.

"I think we should do this swiftly," Frodo continued, partly to himself as if he was mentally pushing himself to do it. "It will be dark soon and I do not wish to climb down blind. I'll go first." He tightened his belt and shifted his pack.

Sam seemed to snap out of the trance he'd found himself in and walked, limbs no longer quaking, back over to the edge, keeping his eyes upon Frodo.

"That sounds all well and good, sir," he said. "But I don't think that would be wise. A bump to my noggin is no problem, but one to yours might cause trouble. Besides, if I get hurt I could be left behind. You, on the other hand, cannot."

"We wouldn't leave you, Sam," Frodo protested, turning to meet the gardener's gaze. "Even if it takes twice as long."

"Pretty words, Frodo, but Sam's right," Merry chipped in, taking a few tentative steps forward but nowhere near the rim, training his eyes on his companions. "Sam will go first, then me, then you and then Pip."

"Why me last?" Pippin whined.

"Because we all know you tremble more than any of us, right now," Merry replied shortly. "Seeing us three go down first may bring some comfort to you. Besides, we cannot leave Frodo up on the cliff alone. Don't worry though, Pip." He added upon seeing the terror in his cousin's eyes. "We'll all be helping you down. And if anything happens, which I highly doubt it will, I'll come racing back up to you. I promise."

Pippin yearned to be comforted by these words, but even as he tried he found he could not. He looked back to where they'd just come, scanning the shadows for any movements. What if that..._thing _that Frodo had mentioned earlier was still at their heels? His heart skipped a sickly beat but he shook his head of all those thoughts, turning back to see Sam getting ready to descend.

"Wait, Sam, you old ass don't walk down unaided," Merry laughed, Sam's eyes narrowing on him with annoyance. "Are you forgetting something the Lady of the Wood gave to you?"

As Sam's eyes widened with realisation, Merry strode over, pulled open Sam's pack and found there, at the bottom, the silver rope. He held it out, drawing in a breath as he admired its craftsmanship. Sam marvelled at it also, although to both Frodo and Pippin it looked like any other rope they had seen apart from it had an odd twinkle in the light.

"Never did I imagine saying this to a Brandybuck, but you never cease to amaze me," Sam said, taking the rope from Merry.

Merry beamed from the praise.

Sam then took up the rope and made it fast over the stump nearest to the brink; then the other end he tied about his own waist. He inhaled deeply; despite attempting to make the breath steady it wobbled feverishly. To save him the embarrassment, the other hobbits remained ignorant to the fear blatantly wracking the body of the gardener. Frodo gave Sam an encouraging smile and went with him to the edge.

Sam started to crawl down.

000

Aragorn began to feel immediate doubt after leaving Amon Hen, following the trail of the uruk-hai and all the while questioning their decision to follow. He began to regret not returning to the shore, not checking for tracks and to see if one of the boats had gone missing. But Boromir's words rang in his mind. 'They are gone: the halflings'. He didn't specify whom or whether they had been taken or had left on their own accord to the Eastern Shore. Itching to turn on his heel and sprint back, Aragorn continued to move on.

"We have not seen a single hobbit track," Legolas said softly, voicing Aragorn's greatest fear. "I am beginning to believe we made a grave mistake."

"The uruk-hai are swift beasts," Gimli pointed out, jogging on behind with sweat pouring down his weather beaten face. "It would be near impossible for the hobbits to keep up with such creatures. They would be carried, I believe."

"Gimli speaks some truth," Aragorn said thoughtfully, kneeling down to brush his mud-caked fingers over a dent in the earth that was an uruk-hai footprint. "But all the same, I am wary. I fear we may have made a mistake. But even though I greatly urge to turn back around, we must keep moving forward now. It is of great possibility that the hobbits are being held captive and if that is so, we cannot dwindle here lost in doubt. We must move forward. When we reach the uruk-hai, all of our questions shall be answered. Be the hobbits there or no, there is little we can do now about it."

"We must hurry," Legolas added, standing beside the man. "I fear they're taking the hobbits to Isengard. And if this be true, we had better hope to overtake them and reclaim the little ones so that Boromir's sacrifice and Gandalf's were not in vain."

"They are a day ahead of us," Aragorn sighed gravely. "But if we go without rest, we may be able to catch them. Let us go." And with that he sprang to his tired feet and started to run, followed by Legolas.

Gimli stood stock still for a moment, frozen in his place at what the man had just said. "I hope my ears are cheating me when I heard him say without rest," he muttered to himself. "A mighty dwarf I may be, with a meatier heart than many men twice my stature, but I shall not last without rest."

"Hurry, Gimli!" Legolas cried over his shoulder.

"I am going as fast as my legs allow, Master Elf!" Gimli hollered back, starting to run once more to catch up with his much taller and quicker companions. "Keep a mind that I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances!"

000

"Steady does it, Sam!" Frodo called, feeling great fear for his friend as he climbed down, gradually becoming smaller. "Do not rush yourself. Take your well-being into consideration first."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo!" Sam replied. He intended on telling his master that he knew what he was doing, that he was being safe and going as fast as he possibly could but he couldn't muster the strength of spirit to do so. His fear was so great; he was terrified that his unsteady voice would give him away. It wasn't as bad as he first thought, but he couldn't bring himself to look down, that soul chilling feeling whenever his feet slipped upon the rock, images of his own death flashing in his mind. As soon as he steadied himself, he puffed out his cheeks in relief and even chuckled a little at his own fright.

Frodo and Merry slowly lowered Sam down, both biting hard on their bottom lips in concentration. Pippin was standing behind them, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other, glancing every now and then behind them, waiting for some movement in the gloom.

"I'm down!" Sam exclaimed in relief. He began to regret ever resenting the cool stone that he now stood steadily upon, feeling a great waft of safety ripple through him. Although, this ripple died swiftly and he remembered the looming dread that towered behind them. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he became desperate to not be alone.

"Merry, are you coming down next?" he called back up.

"I'll be down in a moment, Sam!" Merry replied, straightening up for a moment to turn to Pippin, who wasn't even looking. His shoulders sagged and he cleared his throat loudly, capturing the young Took's attention.

"Don't give me such a fright, Merry!" Pippin yelped, putting a hand gingerly to his chest, feeling his heart sprinting.

"You were supposed to be watching, Pip," Merry said. "No time for day dreaming. I know you're scared of heights; I'm not extremely fond of them either but at least I'll go down. I know you; you'll wind up backing out last minute and I'll have to climb back up to get you. And we have no time to spare. Now, watch me climb down..."

"But, Merry, I wasn't day dreaming! Something..."

"Pippin." Merry only had to say the youngest hobbit's name and raise his eyebrows only slightly for Pippin to close his mouth immediately, looking slightly stung but he said no more.

Ensuring Pippin was watching him, Merry took to the edge, pulling up the rope the dangled over the ledge and tying it fast around his own waist. Every now and then, he glanced up to see if his cousin was watching. Pleased to see he was, he made his way over to the ledge and knelt down once more.

Before climbing down, he turned to Frodo and whispered: "Make sure Pippin watches. He has the attention span of a goose."

Frodo smiled. "I'll do my best. Be careful."

Merry nodded and started to make his way down. The climb wasn't as bad as he'd imagined; he imagined slippery stones, feeling the rock grazing against his arms and shins and the feeling that he'd fall any second. But this was not so; despite this being the exact experience for Sam, Merry found he was a natural at it. He was tentative at first but he quickly became confident and reached the bottom far faster than Sam did.

"Blooming heck, Mr. Merry," Sam steadied Merry as he let go of the rope, landing perfectly on his feet (unlike Sam who had slipped a little and had fallen momentarily on his backside). "You did that mighty fast."

Merry grinned. "It was much more fun than I expected," he panted, looking back up and feeling rather pleased with himself. He cupped his hands to his mouth as he shouted up. "Pippin! Do you want to come down next? You'll love it!"

Pippin heard the excitement in his cousin's voice but, no matter how tempted he was, he felt a need to investigate the shadows whilst the others were gone. If they were there, they would tell him not to, just to keep moving on. But Pippin felt a great curiosity fill him, despite being very frightened of whatever may lurk there; his reckless way of thinking stuffed him with adrenaline and energy.

"You want to go down next, Pip?" Frodo asked softly, snatching Pippin from these thoughts. "I have no issue with awaiting my go."

"N-no, Frodo," Pippin answered, his voice wobbling with anticipation but his companion mistook it for fear. "Y-you go next. I'll watch you go...I just think it'll be better if you go before me."

"Only if you're sure," Frodo felt uncertain, eyeing the young hobbit nervously. When Pippin nodded, he gave in and called back down to the others: "I'm coming down next!"

Merry became instantly suspicious. When they were younger, Merry would just have to give Pippin one word of encouragement, his stamp of approval and he would follow his lead. Pippin was petrified of heights, but whenever Merry persuaded him to climb up a tree with him he'd agree. He assumed Pippin's fear was greater than he'd first thought and decided to ignore his suspicion.

Frodo descended cautiously, going at a much slower pace than Sam. The weight of the Ring seemed to become heavier, as if it knew they were drawing closer to Mount Doom. It felt like it was snagged on something and Frodo had to keep checking, fearing the chain would break and the Ring would be lost. Regardless of his trepidation, he decided to climb down one handed, his other hand clutching tightly on the One. This slowed him down a great deal but he felt much more at ease doing it this way.

His grip slackened on the rope and he dropped, a little higher up than the others had and fell onto his back. Sam was immediately at his side, pulling him to his feet and brushing him down, checking for any injury that his master may have sustained.

"You alright there, Frodo?" Merry checked, only half of his mind on Frodo, the other half was still up there with Pippin.

Frodo, slightly winded, could only nod and smile at Sam, mutely assuring him he was fine. The three hobbits then peered up from where they'd just come from.

"Come on, Pip!" Merry shouted up, perplexed at why his cousin hadn't immediately followed. "We're all waiting for you, you daft hobbit. Pull the rope up!"

The rope remained still.

"Pippin!" Merry tried again, panic filling up inside him.

But Pippin wasn't listening. He'd had his eyes on the shadows the entire time and this time, he could've sworn he'd saw something move. His heart picked up speed. A mighty chunk of him desired to clamber down to the others as fast as he could, warn them. But the other part, the more dominating part of his consciousness, yearned to investigate further. He completely neglected the dagger in his belt, forgetting safety and almost entirely the terror that clutched at him.

He crept vigilantly towards the gloom, eyes focused entirely on that for any slight movements. When he caught one, a smile spread across his lips. His eyes weren't cheated. He was right. Pippin forgot danger. Danger seemed to be a distant memory, turning numb in his body and being overtook by curiosity, something that always seemed to get the best of the young hobbit.

"I was right," Pippin murmured to himself.

He spun around fast and ran to the cliff, dropping to his knees and starting to climb down, forgetting to pull the rope up and tie it around his waist. The three of his companions stared up in horror. Pippin was paying no heed to what he was doing or where he was; the thought of danger lurking above him urged him to continue scrambling down, ignoring the aches in his knees and elbows as he knocked them against the stone.

"Pippin, slow down!" Merry cried, becoming extremely nervous and feeling utterly useless, only able to shout out to his cousin who he was certain couldn't hear him.

Pippin's foot slipped. His hands faltered on the rope. He tipped backwards and started to fall.

"Pippin!" Merry, Frodo and Sam all shouted at once, charging forward.

_**Bit of a cliff hanger there...ooh and an unintended pun. I had uploaded a different version of this chapter yesterday but when I read it, it just didn't seem right. So I changed it slightly and here it is. Please review and let me know what you think. **_


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